An Unknown Emotion
by sydneysages
Summary: In her half-century on the planet, Connie Beauchamp has felt many emotions. Jealous of her paramour's job credentials, however, wasn't one of them until today. /Strachamp, vague AU


This is based on a prompt from Tumblr, thank you anon! It's been literally years since I've written Strachamp, unfortunately, so I hope this is an okay return!

AU, set vaguely after S32, Sam stays and starts work on Darwin... It's actually vaguely similar in background to _Facing the Future_, but is completely stand alone.

* * *

It's a little after four in the morning that the critical alert message flashes up on Connie Beauchamp's phone: accompanied by a flashing orange light and a bell so shrill it would likely wake anyone within a half mile radius, it doesn't end until she's entered her passcode, staff credentials and clicked an acknowledgement button.

"Mmmm," Connie mutters to herself, fighting the urge to close her eyes. Whatever's happened, it has to be something major to require the Clinical Lead in at such an early hour, particularly after a late shift. That doesn't mean that she wants to go, of course; though the idea of closing her eyes is particularly appealing now, it won't be when the critical alert goes off again in thirty minutes because she hasn't reached the front gates of Holby City Hospital.

The light clicks on beside her, revealing a bleary-eyed Sam Strachan looking in her direction.

"Serious or critical?" He mumbles, flopping back down on his pillow.

"Critical," she replies, pushing the quilt away from her legs. She winces slightly at the bite in the morning air, but pushes through. Best to face away from Sam Strachan who, over a year into a steady relationship, can still make her legs unsteady. "Not entirely sure what's happened – it's an auto-alert – but it must be pretty bad if Dylan's unable to cope by himself."

"They should've really called Elle," Sam comments, rubbing his eyes and sitting upright. "I mean, you've only had, what, four hours of sleep? Not really ideal, is it? Upstairs, they wouldn't…"

"They would," Connie replies, more sharply than intended. "It's just Jac who gets called in normally." She shrugs, simultaneously pulling a black dress out of the wardrobe. "It's fine, I'm sure it'll be manageable and then I'll get out as soon as I can."

As Sam swings his own legs out of bed, she frowns and turns to face him. She can feel the skin above her nose crinkling, and mentally notes the fact that she's out of anti-wrinkle cream.

"Sam, what are you doing?" She asks, slipping out of her pyjama top and into a bra. "You don't start for hours … go back to sleep, there's no need for you to be up."

Stifling a yawn, Sam shakes his head, leaning across for a swift cheek kiss before heading to the bedroom door. "You've got a long shift ahead, Con. You definitely deserve some extra-strong coffee."

"What did I do to deserve you?" She says softly, giving him a half smile as he slips out of the door.

As she dresses, she takes a moment to reflect on her life – and how differently it's turned out to how she expected. Having achieved everything she wanted to, including a daughter, she left behind the only area of medicine she'd ever been interested in, in order to care for a man she had barely thought about for almost thirty years. The transplant work wasn't too dissimilar to cardiothoracic work, to be true, but the u-turn into emergency medicine upon her father's death was definitely something out of left field. It isn't something she regrets necessarily, but it's taking far longer to make the Holby Emergency Department outstanding than she had previously thought.

And then there's her love life. From the moment that Sam Strachan had returned to her life, she had had an inkling that something was going to change. That half an hour in the storage cupboard after the random ED wedding was almost expected, she won't lie, but what had happened _after_ was completely different for the pair of them. Rather than incessant bitchy banter, they'd just had … banter. It had been remarkable – Grace had been as shocked as both of them, and had point blank refused to accept the idea that her parents had been _nice_ to one another, let alone secretly dating for two months, when they'd informed her of their relationship. It hadn't been plain sailing, as expected in a Connie and Sam relationship, but sixteen months later, they're thriving. Most of the time, anyway.

But if she had thought anything like this would have happened, she'd have told herself she'd drank too much wine. The twists and turns in her life have been unexpected to say the least.

Ten minutes later, and Connie's dressed with her hair swept back and a smattering of makeup across her face. She's grabbed her bag from where she dumped it the night before, and is in the middle of writing a _sorry I had to leave_ text to her daughter when Sam emerges from the kitchen, a to-go coffee mug in his hand.

"Extra shot, foamy milk and two sugars included," he says, slipping the cup into her hand. "And before you complain, you need the sugar today," he continues, anticipating her complaint about the doubling of her sugar.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she replies, brushing her lips against his. "Don't forget that Grace needs to take her art project in today, or she'll get a detention. And Simba's dogwalker is doing a double stint today, so you don't need…"

"To leave food, yes, I remember when you told me yesterday, Con," Sam finishes her sentence for her. The smirk on his lips, once infuriating, makes her want to drop everything and stay, but her responsibility to her department makes that impossible.

"Glad to know you were listening to _something_," she replies. "Anyway, I've got to go. I'll see you later."

"Love you," Sam calls.

"Love you too," Connie replies, just as the front door shuts.

Yes, Connie Beauchamp of three years ago would have been _horrified_ at saying the words "I love you" to Sam Strachan.

How times change.

* * *

…

Four and a half hours later, Connie finally enters her office, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. Two RTCs, one including two police vehicles and a leaking fuel tanker, had certainly been worthy of the critical alert; in fact, Henrik Hanssen had even been called down to be an extra pair of hands in an overstretched Emergency Department.

Before she's even sat down properly, there's a hasty knock to her office door and it's open before she can say a word.

"Sorry, Mrs Beauchamp," Alicia Munroe says apologetically, anticipating the wrath that's likely to come her way. "It's just that there's a new case coming in for resus, it's cardiac and we're a bit stretched…"

"Yes, yes, of course," Connie replies, waving her hand. "ETA?"

"About ten minutes away," Alicia replies. "Thanks, Mrs B."

She closes the door behind her, and Connie decides to savour the next four and a half minutes. She contemplates shutting the blinds and hiding, but ultimately thinks that that'd waste too much of her precious time.

Instead, she sips her coffee slowly, thankful for her hasty decision to add a second sugar to her coffee. Although she'd never admit it to Sam, the sugar rushes are particularly helpful, especially on days like today when there isn't time to grab even a snack.

Deciding to click onto her emails, she opens the browser to find forty new emails. Clearly, that had been a silly decision, she acknowledges to herself, and closes the browser again; there's her plan for the afternoon, then.

Five minutes after Alicia's interruption, Connie's ready to get back into action on a case that is sure to test her emergency medical _and_ her surgical prowess … or so she hopes, anyway.

* * *

…

"Right, so we have Frank Smith, sixty eight, complaining of chest pain and shortness of breath," Iain begins on his handover. "GCS was 11 on arrival, now around 13, BP is 160 over 90, and resps are normal now he's on oxygen. He had surgery on his heart last year, and has been on blood thinners since."

"He's also very tachycardic," Ruby adds, "and hurt his leg when he fell, though he didn't lose consciousness."

"Hello, Mr Smith," Connie says loudly, walking with the trolley towards resus. "My name is Mrs Beauchamp, I'll be looking after you today." She looks towards the paramedics, "Bay three, please," she says with a smile, her mind whirring over the options of what this patient could be suffering with. There's a high chance of it being a heart attack or angina related, but it also could be something more obscure, particularly if he's had surgery recently…

"Beauchamp?" Frank Smith starts to pull off his oxygen mask. "Swear I've heard that name before. It ain't common, not round here."

Connie gently places the mask back on her patient's face as the nursing team sets him up with the monitoring equipment. As soon as they're done, she starts the primary survey, hearing a faint echo when listening to his chest.

"There aren't many around, true," she replies to his earlier statement. "Mr Smith, I'd like to get you an ECG and some bloods to assess the situation. The paramedics mentioned that you'd had an operation last year; where was it?"

She helps him lift the mask off to answer.

"Here…in Holby City," he replies. "Youngish guy – Strachan – yes, that's where I heard your name. he couldn't stop talking about you."

Connie blushes slightly, her eyes darting around to assess who could have heard. Whilst she's most certainly officially with Sam Strachan, her personal life has been discussed enough in this hospital; she hardly wants to kick start it again.

"Ah, lovely, in that case I'll call for him to come down and consult," Connie replies, placing her patient's mask back on. "I'll be back in a few minutes, once we've got the ECG arranged. Charlie, can you order the bloods?" She directs the last part of the statement to nursing stalwart, Charlie Fairhead, who appears to have taken over from the useless agency nurse who'd been present only moments before.

"Certainly," Charlie replies. "Want me to page Sam, too?"

"No, it's fine," she says, almost too quickly. "I'll call him down. Though if you could get Mr Smith's notes ready, that'd be brilliant."

* * *

…

"So what can I do for the _legendary_ Connie Beauchamp?" Sam is flirty when he answers his phone to Connie, which tells her that Jac isn't around.

"An ED consult would be lovely," she replies, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she sits down in her office.

"An actual consult or something else?"

That Sam has to actually clarify this makes her wonder whether they've crossed into the grey area at work one too many times.

"An actual consult – you know, your job?" She replies, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "No, actually. I've got a Frank Smith, says you operated on him last year. From his symptoms, I assume something to do with a blocked vein?"

"Er…give us a second…um…yes, got it now on the system, yes, Frank Smith, had angioplasty last year … think there were complications, actually…yes, that's it…he needed a bypass to repair some damage to his heart."

"Oh," Connie replies, stunned into silence for a moment. Whilst it's been almost a decade since she officially stopped practicing cardio surgery, she thought that she'd retained her fine motor skills – and the ability to remember whether something was a symptom of a blocked vein or artery. After all, when she helped Jac out with an emergency surgery earlier in the year, she had had no problem getting down with the non-routine aortic aneurysm. _And_ she reads all of Sam's medical journals.

"Yeah, was complicated," Sam continues, not noticing Connie's meaningful pause. "Anyway, I guess you've ordered the chest x-ray and ECG, so if you give us a page when they're in, I'll come down then. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Connie replies, distractedly. "Everything's ordered, I'll page you when it's in. Speak later." She hangs up before he can reply, immediately dialling the number for the radiography department and questioning her own competency at any form of cardiac case.

* * *

…

When Sam appears forty minutes later, it's difficult to not be more than a tad jealous of his ability. As soon as he appears, Frank lights up, recognising the clear skill in his surgeon.

"This guy," he says, excitement causing his heart rate to rise. "This guy saved my life. He's an absolute genius."

"Well, if you'd just calm down a tad, Mr Smith, I'm conscious that your heart's already beating rather fast," Sam says, a small laugh following his words. This changes immediately once he notices the slightly bitter expression on Connie's face. "And, actually, I learnt everything I know from Mrs Beauchamp. She was an extraordinary surgeon before moving to emergency medicine."

The words mollify Connie marginally, though the tense of the verb makes her question her decision to move. _Was_ extraordinary is very different to _is_ extraordinary.

"Mr Smith, I'd like to refer you upstairs," Sam continues, glancing down at the ECG before making eye contact with Frank once again. "I think that you've got a blockage in an artery, and I'd like to inspect it a little closer before considering treatment options. I've got a bed becoming available shortly, so we should have you up within the hour. If you've got any questions – and if Mrs Beauchamp is free, of course – please do direct them to her. If not, I'll be around when you make it upstairs."

"That's wonderful," Frank beams. "Well, not the blockage part. But getting upstairs. It's nice to be somewhere I've been treated before – no offence, Mrs Beauchamp."

Forcing a smile onto her face, Connie looks at Frank, then Sam, before picking up her pen. "No offence at all," she replies, wondering whether Sam knows her well enough to detect the slight edge to her voice that she's unable to avoid. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be back to check on you before you head upstairs. Mr Strachan, good day," she continues, turning on her heel after finishing speaking.

Behind her, she hears Sam making excusing himself before following her.

"Connie!" He calls, two metres behind her walking out of resus. "Connie, wait."

She doesn't, continuing up to the workstation in the centre of the ED.

"Can we make sure that Cubicle Fourteen is discharged before the four hour window?" Connie says to Rash, scanning the patient board for any potential breaches. "And ask Dylan about the status of … wait, does that say _Sam Nicholls_?" Frowning, she turns towards Cubicle Eighteen, curious as to how Dylan's patient could happen to be his former – and current, by the Holby City Rumour Mill – paramour.

"Er…yes, it is," Rash says, turning and spinning to run after Connie. "She, well, she fell on a ladder and—"

"Connie!" Sam says loudly, getting her attention. "Got a minute?"

"Later," she tells him. "If it's urgent, send me an email, I'm heading into my office." She turns her attention back to Rash. "You're going into Cubicle Eighteen and taking on primary care. Should Doctor Keogh have any complaints, direct him to me. That's all, Doctor Masum."

* * *

…

She gets in from work a little after four thirty, and is thankful that Wednesday happens to be Audrey Strachan's arranged day to feed Grace. It'll be nice to have a few minutes to ponder the day.

As she sits in the silent, shaded living room, Connie realises that she felt jealous of Sam Strachan for the first time in over a year. Where before her jealousy had always been to do with the affections of their daughter, today it was entirely work related. Never before in their relationship – or before – had she been in a situation where she wasn't the superior. Even when he had been Medical Director, she had pulled the strings; in fact, she had played a substantial part in ensuring that he was eligible to take the position in the first place.

It isn't a pretty emotion, jealousy, and she doesn't know what to do. Returning to surgery, although an option in the future, isn't where she wants to go right now: at the moment, the thrill of emergency medicine is addictive, and she can see where she wants her department to get to. Within eighteen months, it'll be there, and she can consider returning to Darwin – or an equivalent cardio ward. Perhaps she'll take on St James's, and build it to a position to rival Darwin.

She scoffs at the thought. She'd need two lifetimes to reverse the poor decisions made in _that_ hospital.

But, for now, she's happy with where she is. So why does she feel jealous?

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a key in the front door.

"Hello?" Sam calls, throwing his briefcase on the ground, the thud audible in the living room. "Ah, Con, there you are. I came downstairs to walk out with you, but you'd already gone."

"Yeah, left at four," she replies, stretching her back out. "Finally managed to clear the inbox, so I thought I'd leave whilst I was ahead. I was going to the shop to get us something nice, but…well…I forgot, I'm sorry."

"No worries," Sam says, striding across to sit next to her on the sofa. "We can go out. If you want, that is?"

There's something awkward, unsaid, between them, and Connie knows that the adult thing to do is to raise how she's feeling. Unfortunately for her, this happens to be the first time that she's ever had to raise this particular issue – that she's jealous of her love's career.

"Mmm, maybe," she replies evasively, before turning to face him. "Sam, I need to talk to you about earlier."

"Go on," he replies, a tad warily. A fair stance, she admits, especially after the last patient whose care they clashed on last month.

"I…I was jealous," she admits. "For the first time, we were in a situation where you were the lauded surgeon, and I was just … just the doctor keeping him alive until the expert could get to him. And I realised, in our relationship, it's always been the other way around—"

"—I mean I'm sure I saved a few patients when working for you," Sam interjects, a grin on his face.

"And I'm not sure how to adjust to this," Connie continues, ignoring his interjection. "As you know, I _do_ want to return to surgery in the future, but for now…well, I thought it'd be the mature thing to do to talk to you, rather than ignoring you."

"A very astute point," Sam replies, reaching out and taking her hand. "Look, that was one guy who happened to have been treated by me. There are thousands out there who owe their life to you. They come in all the time, asking for you – it winds Jac up no end, let me tell you. But, soon, you'll make the ED an absolutely outstanding department, and then come back to where you properly belong. And I'll be the jealous one again."

"I'm sure you won't be," Connie comments, closing the gap between them. "Thank you, Sam. I love you."

"Love you too," he smiles against her lips, brushing them gently. "Now, I know another mature thing for us to do…"

"Which is?" She replies, smirking.

"Well, we have three more child free hours, so let's skip dinner and go straight to dessert."

"An excellent plan."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!

If you have any further prompts, please do share.


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